


The Name Game

by DBSommer



Category: Goblin Slayer (Anime)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:49:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23540782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DBSommer/pseuds/DBSommer
Summary: Another humor one centering on... names.
Kudos: 23





	The Name Game

The Name Game

A Goblin Slayer fic

Another humor oriented one. Again I do not own the rights to Goblin Slayer.

This is a string of vignettes, So the scenes don’t really connect with one another except through theme.

You can contact me at tsommer@zoominternet.net

All my stuff is stored at fanfiction . net or mediaminer

Xxxxxxxxxx  
Goblin Slayer found himself walking down the road after a vigorous day of goblin slaying. He liked killing time by killing goblins. Actually everything he did usually related to killing goblins. But it was good exercise and helped him keep in shape. 

Just as he arrived at a fork in the road, another individual approached from the opposite direction he intended to go. The newcomer was dressed nicely and had a leather traveling case in hand. 

The stranger stopped Goblin Slayer and tipped his hat in greeting. “Excuse me, kind sir. Could you direct me to Dragon Infested Mountain?”

“I don’t think you want to go there,” Goblin Slayer warned. “It’s infested with dragons.”

Contrary to popular opinion, not every topographical location’s name was indicative of what was actually there. While Quicksand Park did indeed have quicksand, Goblin Ridden Bog had no goblins in it.

Well, not anymore. 

But Dragon Infested Mountain certainly held dragons. Recently the Dwarves had sent the 7th Dragon Poking Expedition to it, meeting the same fate as the previous six. Dwarves had a thing about eliminating dragons, since one had been caught squatting in one of their underground kingdoms. Dragons didn’t like getting poked, so that had developed something of an antagonistic relationship with one another. 

The stranger said, “I know, that’s why I’m going.”

“Dragons usually don’t like people.” Uncooked, anyway. Apparently they were finicky eaters, which surprised him a bit.

“They like me,” he introduced himself. “Dragon Dentist. I practice dentistry on dragons.”

“Dragons need dentists?”

“Absolutely. They’re the worst species when it comes to oral hygiene,” Dragon Dentist confided. “Even ogres floss with intestines. Dragons? They think breathing fire solves everything. Nope, it always misses those hard to get places. And they never remember do it right after eating. Cavities aplenty. Also there’s chipped teeth when munching down on heavily armored warriors. That’s where I come in.”

“I had no idea.”

“Few do. Most people only know them for eating entire cows, sleeping on mounds of gold, and occasionally burning everyone in sight. But they are rather big babies when it comes to oral discomfort.”

“So dragons don’t like cavities?”

“They hate them even worse than people poking them with things. They also can’t stand people with invisible rings walking across their gold.”

“That’s a very specific thing to dislike,” Goblin Slayer pointed out.

“Apparently it’s more common than you think. I believe someone did it on a dare. Others heard about it and started doing it as some sort of challenge. Spread around quite a bit, like a virus.”

“But can’t dragons see invisible things?”

“They have to squint to do it, but yes, they can. Did I mention how exceptionally stupid the challenge was?”

People doing stupid challenges? He hoped that sort of behavior didn’t become commonplace. Otherwise some folks might try something idiotic, like offering sex education classes for goblins.   
Then again, the phrase ‘enter stupid competitions; win stupid prizes’, existed for a reason. Death was usually handed out for first place. 

Dragon Dentist continued, “The only thing dragons hate more than giving out gold, that isn’t a tax write off, are toothaches. They happily part with chests of it if it means an end to the pain.”

“Don’t people give you a hard time for helping dragons?”

Dragon Dentist was aghast. “I should say not. I’m doing a public service. Dragons get irritated when they get toothaches. Remember when Smoky the Dragon turned Town Near-a-River into kindling? Abscess on an incisor.”

“I had no idea.”

“Few do. Few do.”

Goblin Slayer told him which road to take, and Dragon Dentist departed. It appeared people like him filled a necessary role in society, much like Goblin Slayer did in population control. He wondered if he qualified as a goblin dentist since he often smashed teeth out of their heads with a club. It was food for thought.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The young warrior entered the Guild hall. Dressed in half plate armor with a large sword slung across his back….

(No, it’s not Guts. Not every large guy with a sword across his back is from Berserk.)

He looked about at the various members relaxing throughout the lounge of the hall. Talking, eating, and otherwise having a good old time. He had come to the right place. He walked with purpose to the main desk where a blonde woman awaited. 

“Good day, Sir,” she said with a professional smile—that is one screwed into place as a matter of rote at her job. 

“Good day. I wish to join the Guild,” he said. 

‘Excellent. You’ll need to answer a few screening questions.” She pulled out a paper and inkwell. She wetted her quill and held it above the paper. “First off, there are dues required for belonging to the Guild.”

“I understand.”

“Now for the question of payment. Do you wish to pay up front, have us deduct a percentage from any bounties from quests you receive, or have repeated knees delivered to your groin?”

“What was that?!”

“I said your options are, pay up front, deduct a percentage from bounties you clear, or repeated knees delivered to your groin?”

“Pay up front!”

“Very good.” She accepted his payment. “Now, there’s a newer stipulation we like getting out of the way early. In the event you owe the Guild money when you die, we reserve the right to sell your remains to the highest bidder to make up what you owe.”

He began to sweat. “Do members die so often that’s an issue?”

“It does happen sometimes, but rarely more than once to a member.”

“Oh.” That made sense and didn’t put his mind at ease in the slightest. 

She wrote down something else. “On to the next question. Are you now, or ever have been, or identified as, a goblin?”

“What?! Of course not!”

“Good.” She wrote that down. “We had someone that did, and it got real messy real fast, but not for very long. We got the money he owed us off selling the body, though. Necromancers aren’t always picky about the conditions of remains.”

He was no longer certain he wanted to join. 

Not sensing, or perhaps caring, about his newfound reluctance, she continued. “What is your name?”

At last! A normal question. “Erik Burtok.”

She stared at him in confusion. “I said your name, please.”

“I just told you: Erik Burtok.”

“Um, in order to join the guild we need an actual name, not… gibberish.”

“It’s not gibberish! It’s my name, you silly girl!”

She looked at him as though he were a mentally challenged slime. “How about this? What words do people use when referring to you by name?”

Through clenched teeth he got out, “Erik Burtok, Swordsman for Hire.”

She gave a relieved sigh. “Well why didn’t you say so in the first place? Swordsman.” She wrote it down. “Pleased to meet you, Swordsman.”

He stared at her through half-lidded eyes. “You’re just going to call me ‘Swordsman’ from now on, Miss…?”

“It’s Guild Girl.”

Oh, that was the way it was. Fine. “Actually, Swordsman is my last name. My first name is… Badass.”

“Badass Swordsman.” She wrote down the correction.

That made him marginally happier. As on many occasions of life, sometimes you just had to roll with things and make the best of them.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Goblin Slayer waited on the farm for the wall repairman to arrive. One of the brick walls had been damaged when someone tested a liquid explosive guaranteed to blow up goblins on it, and it proved a little more potent than advertised.

He wondered who could have perpetrated such an unspeakable act of vandalism. 

Now Cow Girl and her father had gone into town to pick up supplies, leaving him behind. Eventually a wagon filled with bricks pulled into the lane leading to the farm. A man in coveralls and smelling of cement leapt off the wagon and walked up to the armored warrior.

He introduced himself. “I’m Bricklayer.” 

“I’m Goblin Slayer,” he responded. 

The man looked at him weirdly. “I don’t see how that can work. Goblins are too uneven to make a good foundation for anything, the amount of cement you would have to use to make them viable would be too great, and then there’s the problem of decomposition compromising structural integrity.”

“That’s ‘Goblin Slayer’ not, “Goblins Layer’.” The man must have had cement in his ears. To say nothing of the fact he knew how shoddy goblin remains were as construction material. The only thing you could use them for was piling them up in a simple mound to reach places you otherwise couldn’t get to. 

If there was anyone that was an expert on the potential construction uses of goblin corpses, it was him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Goblin Slayer was waiting in the Guild Hall, staring at the quest board. He knew he shouldn’t do it. After all, ‘A watched board never spontaneously produces quests,’ yet he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to kill some goblins. 

A throat cleared behind him. Really loud, too. Poor guy must have had vocal damage to produce that sound. Then it happened again. Maybe he should get a priestess to cure him.

Then there was a tapping at his shoulder. Goblin Slayer turned to see a some very generic-looking fellow, in generic-looking clothes, with a generic-looking sword. 

“Are you a goblin?” Goblin Slayer asked. This individual didn’t look like one, but there was that one time that fellow said he ‘identified as one’. That was close enough as far as Goblin Slayer was concerned. A pity they had made him clean up the mess. Disembowelment was always messy. 

“No,” the man said in a generic voice. “I am… Ogre Slayer.”

“I’m Goblin Slayer.”

“I know. Our names are quite similar, though I would point out I’ve been at this slaying thing since the 90’s. I’m sort of the ‘O.G. Slayer’. Get it? It’s a pun. O.G. like Ogre and ‘Original Gangsta’.”

“Oh.” 

“Anyway, it’s no coincidence two slayers have met like this. I’ve sought you out so we could do a sort of team up. Like Butch and Sundance. Bonny and Clyde. Laurel and Hardy. We’d be Goblin Slayer and Ogre Slayer. You’d get top billing, of course.”

Goblin Slayer shook his armored head. “I don’t think so. I don’t fight ogres. Just goblins.”

Ogre Slayer smiled. “That’s all right. I can kill goblins too. I’ve very progressive that way.”

“My party is already full,” he tried. 

Now Ogre Slayer went into full blown pathetic pleading. “Oh pretty please. I need something to raise my recognition. I was obscure in the 90’s, when there were a lot fewer shows out there. Now it’s so bad, I crashed a Naruto party. As soon as they spotted me they said, ‘Two questions. First how did you get here? Second can you leave the same way?’. They had some lightning guy from a filler arc escort me out. Everyone hated filler arcs, but they’d rather have him there than me. I have to do something to get some name recognition!”

“No, and please stop crying or you’ll rust up my armor.” And Goblin Slayer walked away. 

Ogre Slayer stood there sobbing. Maybe he should try to infiltrate Isekai Quartet. There was so many characters in that series he could blend right in. And if anyone didn’t recognize him, they’d just assume he was from one of the series they hadn’t watched. Now all he had to do was shrink his body and enlarge his head….

Xxxxxxxxx

Priestess saw the woman in the chain mail bikini; the one with attributes that would drive a goblin horde to swarm her exclusively if they laid eyes on her. And she had thought Sword Maiden had a large chest. Well, she did, but this woman had at least as much and showed off a lot more of it. Tentatively Priestess approached the woman.

“Um, excuse me Miss…?”

“Sexy Amazon Babe.” She exuded an aura of confidence that could draw an army to it. 

“Oh, yes, I should have known.” Priestess blushed slightly. “I have a question to ask, if you don’t mind.”

“I’m not bi-curious, if that’s the question.”

Her blush doubled. “That wasn’t what I was going to ask.”

“Sorry, when women approach me all blushing like that, it’s usually the question.”

“Anyway, it’s a bit awkward, but I’m just going to ask it. Don’t you have back problems?”

She shook her head. “As a sexy Amazon babe, there are a number of exercises I engage in to prevent that.”

“Um, perhaps your armored bikini top has underwire support also?”

Again she shook her head. “I don’t bother since I don’t have to worry about sag. My chest is so big it exerts its own gravitational field and neutralizes the planet’s own enough to prevent any droopiness. Dust tends to collect on them, though. I’m wiping it off all the time.”

Priestess breathed a sigh of relief. “So that’s why I felt slightly attracted to you. I mean on a physical level, not an emotional one.”

“No problem. I actually attract more lesbians that I do dust, which is saying something. Comes with the territory,” she said nonchalantly. 

“Have you ever considered armor that’s more protective?” she ventured.

“A sexy Amazon babe not wearing skimpy armor is like a priestess not worshipping a god.”

“Oh, good point. Um, one last question. Do you only have sex with men if they can defeat you in combat?”

“Technically, no, but it’s for the best if they can.”

Priestess scratched her head. “Why is that?”

The warrior sighed. “Sexy Amazon babes are considerably stronger than most people. While most men will claim they’d do anything to bang one of us, they usually change their tune after a crushed pelvis. If we aren’t careful, we can sometimes cause friction burns to certain parts of a guy’s anatomy as well. Then they’d be calling out your name instead of ours. Hahaha!”

She suspected a cry for healing magic would be expected if an injury occurred there. “I thought being a sexy Amazon babe didn’t have any drawbacks. I guess I was wrong.” 

“It’s a living.” She shrugged, and Priestess felt drawn to the area of her chest by the gesture. Yes, having her own gravitational pull was not something she really wanted. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Bridgekeeper guarding the Bridge of Death sighted the quintet of strangers approach from the north. People were always trying to cross the Bridge of Death, now more than ever. Mostly because he had collapsed the Bridge of Safe Crossings that had been in plain view fifteen meters away. No one had wanted to cross his bridge when it was up because people were soft, so he took the easy option away. They would thank him for it… those that didn’t end up dying when trying to cross his bridge anyway. 

It was a group of adventurers by the looks of them. Not a single one would make it across, he wagered. Adventurers were dumb, otherwise they’d be accountants. As they approached he heard an armored warrior, with a helm that hid his face, speaking.

“…And then the goblin died choking on his own blood.”

A small girl in blue and white robes said, “You know, your stories all have the same ending.” 

“No they don’t. The last one had the goblin dying as he tried to put his entrails back in his stomach.”

The small girl released a tired sigh. Just as the group was about to cross, the Bridgekeeper went into his spiel. “Stop. Who would cross the Bridge of Death must answer me these questions three, ere the other side he see.”

A dwarf said, “This is a rhyming challenge. I’m great at rhymes. Let me handle this.” He cleared his throat. “There once was a young girl from Nantucket--.”

“No, it’s not one of those! And limericks aren’t real rhymes anyway,” Bridgekeeper added. “I ask three questions, and you have to answer them correctly, or else you’ll go plunging to your death.”

“Perhaps we should seek an alternate route?” The giant talking lizard said.

“There’s no time,” the armored one insisted. “We have to kill goblins and they are on the other side of this chasm.”

“He’s right. I’ll go first,” the small blonde girl said, then tentatively approached.

“What… is you name?” the Bridgekeeper asked. 

“Priestess.”

“I’m sorry. There seems to be some confusion. I said, ‘What is your name’?”

“It’s Priestess.”

Bridgekeeper scratched his head. “You mean your name is actually Priestess?”

“Yes, and now I get to cross the bridge.” And she began to do so. 

Bridgekeeper held up a hand. “Here now, you can’t cross the bridge yet. I have to ask you three questions, and I only asked you one.”

She shook her head. “No, you asked the same question three times. If you wanted to ask me something other than my name, you should have done so. But the terms were I have to answer three questions to pass, and so I did.” And she walked across it to the other side. 

“Hardly seems fair,” the Bridgekeeper muttered. As the talking lizard approached, he said, “Stop. Who would cross the Bridge of Death must answer me these questions three, ere the other side he see.”

“I am prepared,” he said. 

“What is your name?”

“Lizard Priest.”

“What is your occupation?”

“Lizard Priest.”

“Wait. You’re telling me your name is the same thing as your occupation?”

“Yes, now I get to pass as well.”

“What?! Oh hell! I did it again!” He stomped his foot like a petulant child. “Fine. I won’t slip up on this one.”

The armored warrior approached. 

“Stop. Who would cross the Bridge of Death must answer me these questions three, ere the other side he see.”

“Very well.”

“What is your name?”

“Goblin Slayer.”

“Ha! I don’t care how stupid your name is.”

“My name is not stupid.”

Bridgekeeper snorted. “Do you seriously think ‘Goblin Slayer’, isn’t a stupid name?”

“Absolutely.”

“I suppose you think, ‘Monkey Headbutter’ is normal too, eh?”

“Yes, I know at least two people with that name. And now I get to pass as well.” And he did so. 

Now Bridgekeeper hopped up and down and threw out vile curses that would make Vile Cursethrower nod in approval. He was out of breath and near an embolism when another an archer approached. 

“Stop. Who would… never mind. I’m just asking the questions. What is your name?”

“High Elf Archer.”

“Right! That’s it! I give up! Go ahead and walk across, Legolas.”

“My name’s not--.”

“I don’t care! Next!”

She did so, mumbling about how much she hated being called that, which everyone did since she was a blonde elven archer who was sometimes mistaken for a beautiful man because she was flat chested. 

The dwarf was next. He went ahead and said, “My name is--.”

“Sod off!” And Bridgekeeper waved him on past. He gave them all the middle finger as they walked away. What was it with those freaks and weirdoes? Why couldn’t he get normal people, like kings and knights on quests for magical Tupperware? Instead, it was losers like these, or Liches with their wacky entourage, or moronic water goddesses and their wacky entourages. All stress and stupidity. 

Being a Bridgekeeper of a Bridge of Death just wasn’t fun anymore. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

[End fic]  
Yes, the end was inspired my Monty Python and the Holy Grail. And I can scarcely believe I did something with Ogre Slayer in it. I remember nothing about it except it was slow an unmemorable.


End file.
